or troubling you. Didn't
Mrs. Raritan leave her address?"

"If she did, it wasn't with me. When do you want the cottage for?"

Tristrem had not the courage to question more. He turned despondently
from Mr. Brown, and passing on through the vestibule, reached the
veranda that fronts the sea. In an angle a group of violinists were
strumming an inanity of Strauss with perfect independence of one
another. Beyond, on the narrow piazza, and on a division of the lawn
that leaned to the road, were a number of small tables close-packed with
girls in bright costumes and men in loose flannels and coats of
diverting hues. At the open windows of the restaurant other groups were
seated, dividing their attention between the food before them and the
throng without. And through the crowd a number of Alsatians pushed their
way, bearing concoctions to the thirstless. The hubbub was enervating,
and in the air was a stench of liquor with which the sea-breeze coped in
vain.

Tristrem hesitated a second, and would have fled. He was in one of those
moods in which the noise and joviality of pleasure-seekers are jarring
even to the best-disposed. While he hesitated he saw a figure rising and
beckoning from a table on the lawn. And as he stood, uncertain whether
or no the signals were intended for him, the figure crossed the
intervening space, and he recognized Alphabet Jones.

"Come and have a drink," said that engaging individual. "You're as
solemn as a comedian. I give you my word, I believe you are the only
sober man in the place."

"Thank you," Tristrem answered; "I believe I do not care for anything. I
only came to ask----By the way, have you been here long?"

"Off and on all summer. It's a good place for points. You got my card,
didn't you? I wanted to express my sympathy at your bereavement."

"You are very kind; I----"

"But what's this I hear about you? You've bloomed out into a celebrity.
Everybody is talking about you--everybody, men, women, and children,
particularly the girls. When a fellow gives away a fortune like that!
_Mais, tu sais, mon cher, c'est beau, c'est bien beau, ca._" And to
himself he added, "_Et bien bete._"

Already certain members of immediate groups had become interested in the
new arrival, and it seemed to Tristrem that he heard his name
circulating above the jangle of the waltz.

"I am going to the hotel," he said. "I wish you would walk back with me.
I haven't spoken to a soul in an age. It would be